My Futile Efforts to Self-Destruct

I have been thinking today about why people get wasted when they're feeling like shit.
Last night, Everything just got to me, my head imploded and I just had to get fucked.
So Andy, my housemate, and a couple of friends did just that.
I fell off the wagon, so to speak, and after several pills, some CK and a bottle and a half of wine I felt utterly off my face, and in Queer, followed by Essential I danced like a complete twat while chewing my face, which is simply unsurprising.

The thing is, I know that getting fucked wont solve anything.
But what it does do is delete the moment. I feel that dancing my ass off on the dance floor just helped me get rid of some of the energy that has built up with all the stress.
and yes, I know nothing has changed. But maybe I have? maybe, instead of worrying about things that I have no control over, maybe.. just maybe, I should try and put them to the back on my mind and concentrate on the things that are important to me.

I've felt before like nothing will be able to pull me out of the hole I'm in. Until I realised that the only person who can do that is me. And maybe, just maybe. I remember how.

Now I have to plough all this into my screenwriting.